The Lion and the Eagle
by Symbolist
Summary: Rowena was left behind... Godric was left ahead... They swear they never saw it coming. GodricRowena Complete 1.18.07
1. First

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, I do own this story.

_Author's Note:So I wanted to play with the foundersand fun, in-depth descriptions.This will be a GodricRowena fic, showing small snapshots of their lives. This won't be extensive… three to five chapters at the most._

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The Lion and the Eagle  
_A Tale of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw  
_**by Fiyero Oberon  
**First

The castle appears to everyone but Rowena to be plain and dull, as regular as any other castle that has been built in the last century. But to her, each enormous stone of the castle, built one upon the other, seems to have a story written through the cracks and stains and she feels the urge to jump out of the carriage and run her fingers through the patterns created by the gaps between. A heavy iron gate bars the way to the cherry wood door, carved with pictures of trees and apples and angels and birds, a tale that Rowena is determined to discover.

The black carriage stops; it is a small entourage, considering her father was Lord Ravenclaw. Only four black horses. The carriage has a thick decoration of red and blue flowers, arranged among decaying leaves and fresh ferns, sitting on the roof. Rowena had begged her father to let her take a blue flower, as they were so rare, but he scolded her for asking.

"Don't ask again, One," he had said.

One. That is her name. To him, at least. She had never quite figured out if the nickname was a derivation of "Rowena" or if it was truly a number, as she is the first of seven Ravenclaw children.

But Henriette, the cook, had plucked one of the blue flowers off the top of the carriage and tucked it into the thick black braid that ran down Rowena's back. "Don't tell him 'twas me," she warned Rowena, "or he'll have my head!" Lord Ravenclaw had already dismissed two servants for disturbing his wife's chambers in her absence and at this point, no one is willing to take risks on a widower.

The day had started pleasant enough. Not sunny, as Rowena would have preferred, but dark and gray. But at least it had not been raining. Now, the wet comes down in grave sheets, dripping off the noses of the servants as they usher her quickly out of the carriage and up to the castle doors through the sticky mud. She decides that tonight, she isn't going to be One, Heiress to the House of Ravenclaw. Tonight she is Princess Rowena, Heiress to Europe.

Rowena looks down at her dress – it is blue silk, designed to match her father. She wears a bronze circlet round her head and a matching ring of bronze circles her neck.

"Countess, I am so pleased to make your acquaintance." Avery Ravenclaw speaks with his thick Scottish accent, the warm voice that used to make Rowena run into his arms for a hug and a kiss. He is holding a woman's hand, clad with scarlet, and he bends to brush his lips against it. Rowena would have fumed in anger at her father if she had not seen him practicing with Henriette – and Henriette is so scary that she is sure that a kiss on the hand cannot be a sign of true affection.

"Please, Sir Ravenclaw," says the woman. "We are of equal status, so treat me as an equal." The woman's accent is decidedly French and Rowena chuckles at the oddity of it – her Scottish father and a French woman, both living in the country of England. She decides to keep her ears open for more colorful accents. Will there be a Spaniard here tonight? Or perhaps an Irish woman juggling a dozen babes in her arms will beg the Princess for help?

Rowena tugs on her father's navy jacket, playing with the brass buttons. "Papa?" she asks. "Are there to be any other children my age here?"

"Hush, One," Lord Ravenclaw hisses at her. "The Countess does have a son by her divorced husband, but I have no idea of his age or if he is to be here tonight."

"What's the Countess's name?"

"Alexandrine Lesauvage," he says. "Now be quiet."

Rowena follows her father into a high-roofed room filled with swishing gowns in rainbowed dyes and gentlemen in clacking heels and button-up coats. Rowena feels already horribly misplaced at the gathering and makes her mission one to find Countess Lesauvage's son tonight, whether he is here or not.

"What's the Countess's son's name?"

"I don't know," says Avery Ravenclaw. "It's not Lesauvage though, she remarried after her divorce."

"Oh." That would only make things ten-fold harder.

"Go sit in a corner, One," her father says. "I don't want to be bothered by you."

Rowena separates herself from her father, only half-hurt by his words. He has been distant and neglectful ever since the Lady's death and after six months, Rowena is almost used to his bitter words. She finds a bench that has been pushed against the wall and squeezes herself onto it next to a boat-sized woman in pink. The plush of the woman's dress tickles Rowena's arms and she leans to one side to try to avoid the bulk of the woman.

Princess Rowena, Heiress of Europe's eye falls on a woman dressed in gray satin. Her face is decidedly pretty and she has brilliant red hair scooped up in a snood. A tall peacock feather stands up from her head, the threads of color bouncing as she giggles in a lady-like fashion as a gentleman, a Baron by Rowena's guess, spills red wine down his front, creating the morbid appearance of blood.

And there! Behind the Gray Lady's skirts, Rowena swore she saw a boy. Or maybe it was a midget or, better yet, a dwarf. There he is again! Rowena stands and the fat lady shifts, adjusting to the expansion of room on the bench, how little it may be. Rowena's thoughts flee from Fat Lady and the Gray Lady and the Bloody Baron.

"Sir Gryffon d'or, how pleasant to see you this evening," the Bloody Baron said to the dwarf. "I hope you'll forgive me, but I can't recall your first name."

"Godric," says the boy. "Godric Gryffon d'or. And if you'll excuse me, I need to go relieve myself among the rose bushes." The Gray Lady's jaw drops and the dwarf bobs his head politely and leaves the small group.

Rowena hurries after him as he leaves the ballroom, headed for an exit to the outsides. "Dwarf! Hello, Mr. Dwarf?"

Godric Gryffon d'or turns around. "I am no dwarf!" he spits. "I'm a _boy_."

"I thought so," she says, catching up with him. "But my mind often gets carried away with me and I accuse boys of being dwarfs and men of being giants and lanterns of being fairies and – I'm Rowena Ravenclaw."

"Godric Gryffon d'or."

"Pleased to meet you, Godric. Are you parents here tonight?"

"One and a half," he says. An unpleasant grin spreads across the boy's face. "Would you like to guess how I only have half a parent?"

"Are his legs chopped off at the waist?" she asks eagerly. The boys eyes go wide and round, and he is clearly not used to meeting girls with minds half as morbid as Rowena's is at times. "I'm joking."

"Oh. Well, if you'll pardon me, I need to pee in the rose bushes."

"I heard you use that excuse already," she accuses him. "At least think of something original."

"No, Miss Ravenclaw, you misunderstand. I really do need to pee." And with that, the Gryffon d'or boy hurries out the glass door, his hands clutching his body in a way that Rowena considers to be inappropriate for a boy she assumes to be about ten years old.

"Did he not learn any manners?" she mutters allowed, turning away from the glass door.

When the dwarf-boy returns, he makes an announcement to her: "I hate parties."

Rowena smiles. "Why? The dresses are so elegantly colored and everything is so fashionable and beautiful."

He wrinkles his nose and walks away, the opposite direction of the party. "I believed that you might not be as girly as you seemed, Rowena. I'm afraid I was wrong." Rowena scurries up to walk besides him, staring at him. He has a round, upturned nose with freckles sprinkled light across and curly golden hair streaked with red. His bright green eyes flicker back and forth constantly, alert and watching Rowena out of the corner of his eye. He is dressed in a yellow vest and white shirt, and he scratches often at his collar, plainly uncomfortable. At last he stops and turns. "I don't especially like being stared at."

"I'm sorry," she says. "I just find people terribly fascinating, don't you?"

"Not really." He pushes on a heavy door and admits Rowena into another high-roofed room.

Rowena gasps at the space laid out before her. It is a library, but one of such a size that she has never seen before. Every wall is lined with thousands of volumes, thick and thin, clad in leather bindings of every color she can imagine. Lamps hang from the ceilings on long black chains, casting a warm glow on the entire room. Chairs in red plush and brown leather dot the carpeted floor and a massive tower in the center of the room is lined with book as well, twisting upward until it disappears into the ceiling. An immense fireplace is set into one of the walls, golden flames dancing away, casting eerie shadows on Godric's face and hair.

A tawny cat with lime-colored eyes jumps down off a shelf, blinking its eyes sleepily. "Hello, Oliver," says Godric, picking up the cat. "Did we wake you from your nap?" The cat's tail twitches back and forth as the boy pets the orange fur. The Gryffon d'or boy looks at her simultaneously with the cat and Rowena is startled by the striking resemblance between the two. "Do you like books?" he asks.

"I would die without reading," she confesses, taking a few more steps into the room. "I could lose myself in here tonight and never notice if the ball had ended and twelve years had passed."

Godric laughed – his laugh is not ridiculing, but warm and sincere. "Go on, then," he says. "Read. Mother will find us when the party is over."

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Please review! 


	2. Second

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, I do own this story.

_Author's Note: Sorry it's been so long. I didn't intend to wait nearly two months before updating and hopefully this will be updated more frequently in the future. There should only be about two or three more installments to this, not an excessively long fic, but it's more just to get a feel for a relationship between Godric and Rowena, because I'm planning a longer founderfic and I can't decide whether to make it GodricRowena or SalazarRowena, so I wrote this to get an idea of what GodricRowena might be like. I expect a short SalazarRowena to pop up here from me soon._

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The Lion and the Eagle  
_A Tale of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw  
_**by Fiyero Oberon  
**Second

Rowena sits in the highest tower of Lady Lesauvage's castle, her delicate fingers weaving through her black hair quickly and silently, braiding it. For once she cannot keep her eyes trained on the heavy book in her lap and even her long, ebony wand lies forgotten on a table. The rain pours heavily outside as it always does in this part of France.

Godric is to return today.

Rowena has not seen the Lady's son in nearly two years. He had kissed her right before leaving and she had no communication with him since. The only evidence that he was even still alive was the occasional lion-shaped Patronus that would visit her monthly. She would always send her Patronus to him in return, wherever he may be. Godric's father kept him under strict watch and forbade him for revealing his exact location to Rowena, but hints he had given when he was last here led her to believe they were somewhere in Africa.

Her blue eyes are fixed on the muddy road outside and though she makes no physical motion, mentally she is running a race. She can't wait to see Godric's scruffy face again, his crooked smile, his tawny curls, his emerald eyes. She can't wait to feel his strong, calloused hands on her own smooth, white ones, to feel his warm lips on hers. At least, she hopes he will kiss her again.

Rising, Rowena grabs her wand and, with a _swish-and-flick_, the book goes sailing back to the shelf. She has become an expert witch since her father abandoned her at Alexandrine Lesauvage's ball. She has especially excelled in Charms and Arithmancy and, according to her studies in Astrology, these traits go hand-in-hand with Godric's own escalations in Transfiguration and Occlumency.

Rowena finds it interesting that Godric's last name is Gryffon d'or, meaning golden griffin in French. The griffin is a beautiful creature, known for its bravery, loyalty, cunning, and wisdom. But what fascinates her most is that the griffin is a cross between an eagle and a lion – the Ravenclaw coat of arms carries the image of an eagle and, in turn, the Gryffon d'or coat of arms holds a depiction of a lion.

Clattering noises from outside draw Rowena to the window and there is a small entourage of horses, in the middle of which a strong, white horse holds a seventeen-year-old man with red and gold curls.

Rowena is not yet advanced in her Animagi studies enough to soar out the window, but her heart leaps so high at the sight of Godric that she thinks she could anyway. She doesn't even remember running down the tower steps and through the castle, out the doors to throw her arms around Godric's neck and lavish his face and neck in a hundred kisses and more.

And Godric just cups her chin and pulls her upward into one long kiss.

Lady Lesauvage comes out of the castle and delicately embraces her son and kisses his cheek. The relationship between Godric and his mother has always been a cold one and Rowena never pursued a conversation based around the topic.

Rowena ushers Godric inside where they kiss again and again, happily ignoring the giggles and whispers from Lesauvage's servant girls. "I missed you," Rowena says when they pull apart at last.

"I love you," he says.

A motherly servant comes over and clucks over Godric's dirty state and his tattered clothes. "Might as well be nekkid, them clothes is so tattered!" she says, then whisks Godric away, already undressing him.

Rowena waits impatiently for dinner, pacing her room and selecting a gown of a deep blue velvet to wear. She tries to lose herself in another book, but finds it pointless and ends up sitting in a plush chair in the library, wringing her hands out, waiting to see her beloved again.

It seems years before a page finally enters and announces dinner. Rowena stands, straightening her skirts, and walks as calmly as she can to the dining hall. The walk is longer now than it has ever been before and she listens to her silk slippers sliding on the stone floor, to the swish of her silk and velvet skirts brushing against each other.

"Miss Ravenclaw," Lady Lesauvage says as Rowena steps into the dining hall. She flushes a brilliant pink as she realizes that – of course – the long table is filled with guests to celebrate the young lord's return. She should not have kept them waiting.

Godric stands for her, though no one else does, and gestures to the empty seat beside him. Quietly, Rowena glides around the table to the tall chair and takes her seat. All eyes are on her and she tries her best to make them go away by staring at the silver plate in front of her.

Heads bow in a silent saying of grace and Godric's hands finds Rowena's beneath the table. Her skin heats at his touch and something exhilarating runs through her veins, awakening her senses.

Rowena opens her eyes and the feast on the extensive table reveals itself – a roasted peacock with the feathers unplucked is the grand centerpiece, surrounded by bowls of variously assorted vegetables and meats and cheeses and breads and fruits dipped in chocolate and tiny cakes and large pies. Godric kisses Rowena and begins loading his plate with pickled eggs and a slice of cranberry pie and peacock drowned in gravy. "I'm so hungry," he mutters.

"I missed you," she says, repeating her earlier words.

He looks her in the eye – green locked with blue – and calls her a name she has not heard for years: "One." And suddenly she feels like she is melting in that expanse of emerald, liquidated in a world of swirling green flecked with white and gold and brown. "You're every bit as beautiful now as when I left," he whispers, "more, even."

"As are you," she says. Godric leans in to kiss her again.

"Aye, see the lad and his mistress!" the Duke of Dockingburg shouts. Rowena expects Godric to pull away, embarrassed, but the kiss goes on, deepening. "I'm sure they'll have themselves a right bit of fun this eve!"

"Georg!" Lady Lesauvage snaps. "I will not have you poking into my son's affairs, especially at a welcoming feast."

"I speak only the truth," the Duke says, grinning. He makes eye contact with Rowena and winks; she looks away quickly. "That's a right pretty lass you've got their, boy," the Duke says to Godric. "Make sure you hold on to her. I wouldn't mind a night in bed with her myself –"

"Georg!" Lady Lesauvage gasps. The table has gone entire silent. Rowena is red-hot and Godric is on his feet, his hands balled into fists at his sides.

"Sir," Godric says quietly, through clenched teeth, "with all due respect, I will have to ask you to remove yourself from the premises of my mother and her husband's land."

The Duke lets out a hardy laugh. He is disgustingly drunk and he sways back and forth in his chair as he laughs. "Don't be ridiculous," he slurs, "you can't order me around, boy, I am your superior."

"Leave, Georg," Lord Lesauvage says firmly.

Not another word is spoken until the Duke has left. Even then, conversations resume at a lower volume and Rowena can feel the constant icy feeling of eyes on her as she eats her food as quietly as she can.

After the dinner Lady Lesauvage confronts Rowena. "Miss Ravenclaw," the tall woman said, "I have no idea what your intentions are with my son. I want you to know, however, that I approve of any courtship you may pursue. However, your father…" And here Lady Lesauvage's eyes narrow, and a bitter edge attends her words. "Your father has sent word of a marriage arrangement.

"Who is he marrying?" Rowena asks politely – she no longer has any affections toward her father and does not especially care to know, but knows it would be rude to brush it off.

"The marriage is not for your father, I'm afraid," Lady Lesauvage continues. "But for you. Your father has arranged your marriage to Sir Jonathon Evergreen."

The news does not appear to hurt Godric as much as it hurts Rowena. He bites his lip when she tells him, nods jerkily. Rowena sees that his eyes have glazed over, though, and he won't look her in the eye. "Ric, please," she begs, "say something." But Godric seems to be lost in his thoughts.

He stands and shucks off his vest and shirt, walks over to the water basin and splashes his face, neck, and torso with the icy cold water. Rowena shivers at the sight of Godric's bronze skin; she hates Jonathon Evergreen already.


	3. Third

The Lion and the Eagle  
_A Tale of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw  
_**by Fiyero Oberon  
**Third

An arrangement of ivy and lilies sit on a pedestal next to the tall looking-glass. Peering in, Rowena sees the reverse reflection of herself – a black braid, looped with white lilies and an unnamed blue wildflower; a white veil, thrown over her head, that will be pulled back down to mask her face during the wedding; a white velvet gown, ornamented with blue ribbons; two eyes, big and blue and sad, heavy from the holding of tears.

"Milady," says a serving girl, rushing into the room, "the ceremony is to begin shortly. The sire awaits your presence…"

Rowena sniffs and wipes away the tears with a satin-clad finger; the gloved hands reach up to pull down the veil and the serving girl hands her an extravagant bouquet of lilies and blue wildflowers. Rowena plasters a false smile on her face and follows the serving girl to the chapel.

Sir Jonathon Evergreen stands at the front of the chapel, his bearded face beaming. Rowena finds that her eyes refuse to meet with Sir Evergreen's – _Jonathon,_ she tells herself, _call him Jonathon_ – and instead trail along the floor in front of her as she walks slowly down the aisle.

Looking up, Rowena searching the faces lined in the pews, searching for a familiar face – at the front, her six brothers and sisters, all smiling at her. Her father stands beside Sir Evergreen – _Jonathon­_ – beaming at such a fine match.

She looks again, looking for one face – where is he?

There.

Two green eyes and a mane of golden-red curls. On one side of him, Lord and Lady Lesauvage sit; on the other, a lanky, dark-haired wizard known as Salazar Slytherin smiles sadly at her. But the important thing is that Godric is here, and he is not smiling.

The ceremonies seem an eternity, but Rowena does not pay attention. Her mind is focused on her hatred for the bearded man before her and her love for the golden man behind her. She repeats what the priest tells her to repeat and drinks what the priest tells her to drink and places the ring on the finger the priest tells her to place it on. Repeat, drink, place, repeat, drink, place, drink, repeat, place, place, place, place, place, drink, repeat…

At the ball, Lady Lesauvage swoops upon her, hugs her tightly, and kisses her on each cheek without a word before moving on to introduce herself to Sir Evergreen – _Jonathon._ Salazar hugs her and Godric – Godric gives a curt nod, before moving on to shake _Jonathon_'s hand. It feels like her heart has turned suddenly to lead and plummeted to the pit of her stomach, or lower.

"May I have this dance?" The orchestra has begun playing and before Rowena can accept or decline, she finds herself whirling around the dance floor with Sir – _Jonathon._

When the dance has ended, Rowena gives the proper curtsy and then hurries away in search of Salazar and Godric. She finds them talking to a girl with a round face and long, golden-brown hair. "Hello," she says, coming up to them.

"Hello," the trio chimes in unison. All look very awkward, as though they do not know what to say, but it is the round-faced girl who speaks up first. "Hello, there," she says, and Rowena can feel the warmth and kindness generating from her voice, "I'm Helga, Godric's sixth cousin twice removed or something like that. Our mothers are third cousins whose aunt married the divorced husband of their grandmother making them – oh, I don't know, the point is that we're related."

Rowena smiled, deciding she liked this Helga girl. "I'm Rowena Ravenclaw," she says, extending a hand, which Helga takes and kisses, surprising Rowena. "Oh… formalities aren't really expected…"

"Ah, but they are now, Lady Evergreen," Helga says, smiling. "You married a knight to the King of England – it would be improper for me not to kiss your hand. I'm only a baroness of Scotland… not even, really; a baroness-to-be, once my mother and father have died… Not that I want them to die, I'm just saying that once they have both passed on, _then_ I will become a baroness and I do believe I'm making a fool of myself in front of the wife of a knight of England. I beg pardon, Lady Evergreen."

"I'm not an Evergreen," Rowena says firmly, and Godric raises an eyebrow. "I mean to say, I kept the Ravenclaw family name. It's not a very common name, and my mother had only two sons to keep the name going after my father has died, and I have no cousins, so I fully intend to keep the Ravenclaw name alive as long as possible." Helga raises her eyebrows, apparently impressed with the strength in Rowena's decisions. "Of course, Jonathon will want to name any children Evergreen, so it won't matter in the end anyway…" She trails off – Godric is looking away, studying the dancing figures.

Rowena jumps at the feeling of two arms wrapping around her waist, and twists around to find Sir Ever – _Jonathon_'s bearded face kissing her. "Are these your friends, Ro?" he asks, and Rowena decides that he makes the word "friends" sound childish and foolish.

"Yes," she says, despite herself. "This is Salazar Slytherin."

"Slytherin? As in the House of Slytherin?" Evergreen asks, and Salazar nods curtly, and Rowena pleads mentally that he does not say what she knows he is going to say. "Are those the famous family of Parselmouths? They were burned at the stake, weren't they? I thought Muggles had killed them all?"

"Not all," Salazar says through clenched teeth – Rowena sees Godric wrap a fist tightly around Salazar's thin wrist.

"How did you manage to escape?" says Evergreen, interested in a topic that made everyone else uncomfortable.

"Animagus," Salazar manages to say.

"No kidding, what's your form? You're registered, of course, aren't you? They're making all Animagi register now, to keep track and all, you know."

"Yes, I've registered. I'm a snake."

"Oh, of course you are," says Evergreen, chuckling heartily and pecking a kiss on Rowena's cheek; she grimaces in return. "And who is this fine couple?" he asks, turning to Godric and Helga.

"This is Helga – I'm sorry, I didn't catch your last name."

"Oh, right," says Helga, smiling, "it's Hufflepuff."

"Helga Hufflepuff," says Rowena, and she continues straight on into introducing Godric for fear of Evergreen embarrassing Helga as much as he humiliated Salazar. "And this is Godric Gryffon d'or; you have met him already, he is the son of Lady Lesauvage."

"Oh yes, of course." Evergreen – _Jonathon – _extends a hand to Godric, who shakes it firmly. "Well, you three wouldn't mind if I stole Ro for another dance, would you?"

"Oh no, not at all," says Helga, smiling – Godric, however, looks like he would care very much and Salazar looks ready to pull out his wand and charm Evergreen into a coma. It matters little besides, because even before Helga has spoken Evergreen has pulled Rowena away into a whirling waltz.


	4. Fourth

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, I do own this story.

_Author's Note: I know, it's been a while again... there will be only two more installments to this piece. Please review!_

The Lion and the Eagle  
_A Tale of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw  
_**by Fiyero Oberon  
**Fourth

Helga clasps her hands together, her round face spread in a beam. The wind whips at her golden curls, but she hardly seems to notice. "It's magnificent," she whispered.

Rowena was not watching Helga nor looking at the grand castle before them. She was studying Godric, studying the man he had become. He was tall now, golden-red curls reaching his shoulders, the silky whiskers on his cheeks and chin hinting at a coming beard. His scarlet cloak flapped lazily in the wind and his green eyes glow with satisfaction and delight as he gazes up at the castle. And, at last, Rowena follows the gazes of Godric and Helga and Salazar.

"It's done," says Salazar, a hint of pride in his voice. "It's ready."

The castle stood before them, a massive creation of stone and wood, towers and balconies, windows and walkways, secret passages and secret chambers, changing staircases and moving portraits, bedrooms and common rooms, great halls and cozy classrooms. And from each of the tallest four towers, the four corners, waved four flags – red to the north, blue to the west, green to the south, and yellow to east. And the wind suddenly sent a shiver up Rowena's spine, and she knew that the others had felt the chill as well.

"We'll need students," says Helga.

"It won't be hard," says Salazar. "Wizarding families are easy to track down with the right spells."

"But the Muggle students will be harder to find," Helga says wisely.

"Muggles?"

"Muggle-born, I should say," says Helga, correcting herself. "Muggle-born children who display magical abilites." Salazar's eyebrows arch and his thin lips form a straight line, but he says nothing.

Rowena says nothing, but finds herself inching closer to Godric without realizing it. She is close enough to touch him now, close enough to lean her head on his shoulder. Silently and quickly, she slips her hand in his, entwining the fingers, and squeezes tight. He squeezes back and she closes her eyes, pretending for a moment that she is his and he is hers and everything is as it should be.

"Ho, what have we here?"

Rowena instinctively pulls away from Godric and turns quickly around. "Oh, Jonathon!" she cries, surprised and thoroughly disappointed. "I –"

"You didn't expect my arrival," he says, smiling. "Rowena, I'm afraid I'm here to deliver some bad news."

Helga turned and placed her hands on Rowena's shoulders, showing her support and loyalty to her friend.

"Rowena," says Jonathon Evergreen, taking a step forward, "my love… I must leave you. I've been called away to France for a while." He takes her hands in his, and they are silky smooth, the complete opposite of the rough, warm touch of Godric's. "But this is good, it will give you time to get the school started… we can settle down then," he says, leaning forward to kiss Rowena's lips, but she mechanically pulls away. "Have children." He makes another attempt at kissing Rowena and this time she lets him. "Goodbye, love." And he walks away. Rowena lets out a long, slow sigh of relief.

"Awkward," says Helga.


	5. Fifth

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, I do own this story. 

_Author's Note: So I lied: this is the last installment of this miniseries. This was just a small exploration of the relationship between Rowena and Godric for me to see if I could sense any... erm... _**romantic**_ feelings between them. I think I've made my decision and it's likely you'll see a much, much better Founderfic (and longer, featuring more Salazar and Helga) from me in the near future! Please review one last time! Thanks!

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_

The Lion and the Eagle  
_A Tale of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw  
_**by Fiyero Oberon  
**Fifth

A turned-up nose and sweeping black robes are the last they will ever see of Salazar Slytherin – they know that now, even though he has left just moments ago. Evergreen looks after him reluctantly, gazing back and forth from the exit to the man who has become his nearest and dearest friend to the woman he calls wife.

"Rowena," he says, stepping towards her.

But she holds up a hand to stop him. "Say nothing," she says. "Just go." Her words are cold, bitter, harsh, but she realizes she doesn't care. It's an opportunity for him to leave her, a chance that they both have been waiting for, and he does as she has instructed – her eyes are closed as he leaves and he is glad.

"Rowena," Helga says, her voice small and soft.

"No," is the only word Rowena can manage.

There is a long pause of hush between them – there is a shriek of laughter from the corridors, but Helga, Rowena, and Godric stand still, silent, staring at the door.

And suddenly they are all crying, even Godric, and Helga has thrown her arms around Rowena's neck and no one can tell whose tears are whose.

And Rowena looks at Godric. And though his face is solemn and sad, she knows that the School will go on.

The Lion, the Eagle, and the Badger will go on.


End file.
